


This was...

by ladymdc



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Rating May Change, Romance, a snippet fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-10-18 10:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/pseuds/ladymdc
Summary: A story of two lost people finding their way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sure how often I will be updating this thing. It’s just something smol and fun for when I have the time. ❤️

She arrived on the first day of spring with raven black hair and skin like alabaster. She wore a false cheery smile that only further conveyed the discontent she really felt. 

Elliott’s presence was purely coincidental. He too had moved there searching for a way to negate that odd flat feeling inside and remembered with distaste how the denizens of the valley had gathered to gossip and gawk. Already, they were amassing in the town square, teeming with low excited chatter. Affording her some respite from this treatment, he was content to continue on with his errands as if she just was not there.

It was not until a few weeks had passed that Elliott began to consider his behavior had been misconstrued. Most of the town thought he was pretentious and he had few friends as a result. Those Elliott did have told him to think nothing of it; apparently, she had minimal contact with anyone unless they wandered over to her homestead or happened to be at Pierre’s General Store at the same time. With that knowledge, he resolved to put the incident out of his mind.

Still, he knew he would go back and do it over if he could. Would do it gladly.

Outside, the blinding purple-white of forked lightning lit up the horizon, then the distant roll of thunder. Even in the dark, Elliott could tell it was her sitting on the beach watching the storm come in. By the time he joined her, the wind had picked up. She chuckled as they both pushed their hair from their eyes. 

A small glow ring on her left hand provided them their own private bubble of light. It was not her looks he was interested in, but he noticed them all the same. An array of long, black lashes framed her eyes, blue like the midnight sea, and there was a smear of freckles across the bridge of her nose. 

“This isn’t a private beach is it?” 

“Hardly,” he said. “You’re the new farmer.” 

“No, I’m the idiot who left everything behind because she thought she could be a farmer.” There was an unmistakable note of amusement to her voice.

“I’m Elliott,” he said, extending out a hand. “The idiot who thought he’d be published by now.”

There was noise around them, but with her hand in his, there was silence too, and this was how Elliott met Zoë Bossard. 


	2. Chapter 2

Despite her efforts, The Rare Bird Farm was still a clusterfuck. There were boulders, half-buried hardwood trees, and two ponds that seemed to produce only mosquitoes and trash. Her newly acquired meteor sat in the middle of what would someday be her orchard, which made it all worse. After almost breaking her precious pickaxe, Zoë resorted to rolling it off to the side, and by the time she had succeeded, she sincerely wished it had crashed through the roof of her house and squashed her while she had been sleeping. 

She spent the rest of the day simply doing her best amid a chorus of thudding, sawing, and drilling. It was not much better than the incessant clicking, clacking, and whirring of the corporate world, but at least here Zoë could  _ see _ change happening around her, and that helped. 

The house looked less like a shack built by confused, blind beavers and more like a quaint little cottage. Half of a silo stretched up into the sky. It grew taller every day. Puffy blue flowers stood tall among the small sea of green. She was even the proud owner of a fungi cave. 

Zoë had a plan. There would be a place for everything, and eventually, everything would be in its place. 

Her savings had taken a massive hit, but she was done playing things safe. She had her entire life, and at this point what consequences were there? Zoë owned the property. If the house burned down, she could chop down some more trees and make something those blind, confused beavers would be proud—

A hand, amazingly soft and well manicured, wrapped around her own, and she looked up. Green searching eyes, unfeasibly long, beautiful golden-brown hair, and a small smile playing on his lips. The man clearly took care of himself, and Zoë couldn’t help but always feel slightly inadequate in his presence. It wasn’t that she didn’t try, but she had better things to do with her free time — like sleep. 

“You shouldn’t scratch. Ice works best to stop it, but try this for the time being,” Elliott said, handing over a beer.

“Thanks,” she said, then pressed the cold glass bottle to the massive bite on her arm. Harvey suspected she had a slight allergy to the bloodsuckers which was so very much her luck. “At least this stuff is good for something.” 

He smiled at that, a flash of white teeth. ”It’s nice to see you taking a break.” 

“Would you like to join me? I ordered a pizza.”

His nose wrinkled. “I’ll pass on the pizza, but not the company.”

A distant part of her wondered what kind of person didn’t like pizza, but from him, that only seemed to make sense. Instead, they shared a bottle of wine as dry as his humor, and this was how Zoë got to know Elliott Ellgen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made up a last name for funsies 🙌


	3. Chapter 3

He stayed at home on days it rained for two very different reasons. Thunderstorms were startlingly beautiful but nerve-wracking to negotiate. At the moment, it was a thin rain, falling from dark, low clouds. The gentle pattering a perfect accompaniment to the waves breaking against the shore. Showers like this generated a specific emanation in which time and space seemed to collapse in on itself. Perfect for getting lost in a world of his own making. 

Today, however, his mind was decidedly occupied. 

During a rare moment where Elliott allowed himself to be uncharacteristically frank about his  _ real  _ feelings, it became apparent he was still aimless wandering. Youth was a crown of roses, and his was wilting. Literally and figuratively. His thirtieth birthday was in a few months, and it crept ever closer with an air of precariousness. He had no doubt he would emerge on the other side. How he would, however, remained a mystery to him in so many ways. 

Zoë was eternally self-deprecating but confident, and despite the countless things stacked up against her, approached her goal with a sort of restless determination. She simply wished to be genuinely happy. Nothing more. He was unsure whether to be indifferent or unsettled by the fact he never considered happiness as an accomplishment on its own. Then she appeared at his door as if summoned by these thoughts, and Elliott forgot about his troubles in his sudden contentment. 

Ever since that fateful night at the saloon, she was no longer a passing stranger or just one more person to look down on him with contempt. She was a friend, and he was unspeakably grateful to have her as one. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Oh, it’s not for your pleasure; it’s for mine.”

“Is it now?” he asked, feeling a tug at his mouth. 

“It is. I’m here in search of Lewis’ underpants,” she told him. Despite himself, Elliott laughed, and he privately delighted in the grin that broke across her face. “He seriously cornered me in the library just now to ask that. Even told me they were purple and now I fear the color.” 

“Ugh. If you’d like to come in to recover from this traumatic event, I can promise you won’t find them here.” 

“Thank, Yoba,” she said, and he laughed again. “You mentioned your roses weren’t doing so well the other day, would you like me to take a look?” 

“That wasn’t why I brought it up.“

“I know, but I’m happy to help since you’re like the only person in this town who doesn’t expect it of me.” 

This reply left him unexpectedly warm. And so he allowed it. 

He assumed she’d check the soil first. Yes, it had been watered regularly, and no not with salt water. But instead, she gently brushed a fingertip along a single petal. He wondered what the touch would feel like against his bare skin, and this was how Elliott came to understand his attachment to Zoë Bossard.


	4. Chapter 4

The sight of Abigail in a frilly white dress was not the strangest thing she had seen in the valley, but it was ranking pretty solidly in the top five. Zoë also couldn’t help but tease Elliott because he looked like he’d rather be eating pizza than wearing formal attire in the middle of the Cindersap Forest. The festival was incredibly outdated, but also sweet, and for her, showing up stag was just a given. 

In the grand scheme of things, there were far worse things that could happen. That  _ had  _ happened, like that goddamn meteor. But Zoë was one of those ‘suffer in silence’ types, and she preferred it that way. Except when it came to the lack of free food since attending town events was another responsibility she had to slot into the overall picture.

“Why isn’t there any cake here?”

“Do you like cake?”

“Do you not?”

A pause as they shared a wry smile, then Elliot said: “Of course, I like cake.”

“What’s your favorite kind?”

“Vanilla,” he declared happily. 

It was a piece of information Zoë tucked away with fondness. Elliott’s tastes were usually far more refined, which was not a surprise given that his family was reasonably well off. A life he had left behind to pursue his aspirations versus giving into expectations to become a lawyer like his father and his father before him and so on and so forth. It was a decision he had not made lightly since Elliott cared deeply about what others thought of him, especially his family. However, he had refused to let those opinions change him, and she admired that. 

“Truly, the phrase ‘plain vanilla’ should be banished from the lexicon,” he continued. “Vanilla is one of the most complex spices in the world. Did you know it boasts at least 250 different flavor and aroma compounds, and like coffee beans, depending on where it is cultivated, can have its own distinctive flavor profile?”

“I did not, but now I do,” she said, smiling up at him. 

Elliott was quite tall, which was nice since she was also on the taller side, and his shoulders were delightfully broad, which Zoë wasn’t entirely sure why she had made a note of that. But he was brilliant and would kick some serious ass at trivia night if she could ever convince Gus to start having it. 

Really, there were a lot of things she admired about Elliott.

“May I ask what your favorite kind is?”

Before she could answer, Leah appeared at Elliott’s elbow. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s about time for the dance.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Zoë told her. 

“I beg to differ,” Elliot said, his gaze steady on her. 

Zoë literally had no idea why she was blushing. “Oh. Well, it’s not like I wasn’t enjoying myself. It’s just that you’re here with Leah and… well… I’ve been like… Anyway, my favorite kind of cake is strawberry, but you two should get going before they start without you.” 

She was dying. May another meteor fall out of the sky and end her now, because it would be a pleasant alternative to the way they both stared at her, eyebrows raised. 

Then Leah giggled. “We’re just friends,” she said.

“Ok, then,” Zoë replied, somewhat awkwardly. 

A thoughtful frown appeared on his face. “It’s true.”

It was only after they had walked away, arm in arm, that she decided that was great news, maybe the best news, and this was how Zoë became aware of her wholly inadvisable crush on Elliott Ellgen. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! ❤️


End file.
